


Warmth

by unsaidsunset



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Night Terrors, Touch-Starved, references to past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsaidsunset/pseuds/unsaidsunset
Summary: "The warmth that radiates off of him has never ceased to amaze me.Because for years, all he had ever known was ice cold."
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 47





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from my previous Bucky x Reader fic. Not connected at all. (All though it could be, if you squint.)
> 
> I just really was in my feels and wanted to write some good ole soft Hurt/Comfort.

Waking up and rolling over, instinctively reaching out in search of warmth, only to find the other side of the bed cold and desolate always stung.  
But it was a common occurrence.  
James Buchanan Barnes had seen a lot in his lifetime.

He experienced insurmountable pain. Pain I cannot even begin to fathom.  
The loss of loved ones he would never get to properly mourn.

The emptiness that came with his torture ridden past was one I wish I could take from him in an instant. And one he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.  
The ice cold memories of a life long past. But not easily forgotten.

Of course it was always there, sitting in the back of his mind, rooted like weeds that just wouldn’t weather. Thoughts. Evil. And intrusive. Waiting on the opportune moment to strike and knock the wind out of his lungs. 

He carried well, the weight that so easily besets him.  
Or so it seemed. 

It was nights like tonight that made us worship the good days. 

The warm days in the sun. 

A smile on his face so wide he just swore his face was going to freeze that way. 

Even then, he knew the thoughts weren’t far off. 

Cold and invasive.  
His dreams were seldom pleasant. They were cold. So unbelievably cold. Ridden with flashes of the horrendous acts he was washed to commit. For years. 

Nights like tonight he would startle awake. A sheen of cold sweat covering this torso. Feeling the weight of someone next to him. Remember that those dreams were just memories. 

Memories he wishes to forget.  
He rolls out of bed. Careful not to wake me. 

But it’s near impossible to continue sleeping when the warmth his presence brings is absent. Replaced with the cool night air.

Sitting up in bed and reaching for a shirt, his shirt, that had been half haphazardly thrown down in the swell of the moment just hours prior. Slipping it over my head, the hem reaching just above my thighs, walking into the living room of our shared apartment. Finding him in his usual spot on his side of the couch, his head cradled in his hands.

“Missed you.” I say tiredly as I walk over to the arm of the couch beside where he is sitting and place my hand delicately on his shoulder. His skin almost burning hot with warmth

The warmth that radiates off of him has never ceased to amaze me. Because for years, all he had ever known was ice cold.

“Sorry, doll. Couldn’t sleep.” he mutters as he reaches over and gently rests his right hand on mine on his shoulder. Making the corners of my lips turn up in a slight smile. 

He always touches with such tenderness. 

Because he knows how it feels to be broken. 

“I know, Buck.” I reach out, carding through his hair with my free hand as he leans in to my touch. Almost relishing in it.

Removing my hands from him and walking over to my seat on the couch, motioning for him to lay down and he looks at me with questioning eyes,

“You know you want to.” I motion to my lap and he smiles tiredly, laying down. Resting his head on the apex of my thighs and I reach down, returning my hand back to play with his hair. And he hums in response.

We sit there for a bit. As I see the tension in his shoulders relax slightly. His nerves already calming down. 

“Whenever you want to talk about it. I’m right here, Buck.” I utter sincerely, resting my head on the back of the couch feeling his left hand, cool and tender, coming to rest on my knee, squeezing slightly causing me to smile.

“I know, doll.” he pauses for a minute yawning, signaling he is fixing to fall in to a hopefully peace sleep, “Thank you.” he whispers, the weight of his eyelids becoming too much to bare, 

“Thank you for allowing me to be here.” I say softly and he hums again. I continue to run my fingers through his hair as his breathing evens out and it suddenly feels like I can breathe properly again. Relaxing my shoulders and burrowing further into the back of the couch.

I don’t care if I have to sit here all night, carding my finger through his hair. With a gentle touch. 

Because James Buchanan Barnes deserves to feel safe, warm and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> **My work is not to be republished/posted by anyone who is not me.


End file.
